


Holding Hands

by bellaaanovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Fluff, Holding Hands, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:16:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaaanovak/pseuds/bellaaanovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam comes home from school with a black eye, and Dean does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Hands

Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but he was not a romantic.

 

He was, quite possibly, a killer – he killed _evil_ , it was justified – and he was definitely obedient.

 

The one thing he wasn’t was a romantic. After leaving Robin at Sonny’s, the rest of high school he stuck to hooking up, considering there was no way in hell he could even think about getting attached to any girl, _ever_ again. Other than the one night stands or make out sessions in the janitor’s closet, Dean stayed unbearably close to Sam. He was _not_ going to let him deal with what Dean dealt with.

 

Attachment and pain due to it were overrated.

 

So, when Sam came to him on the verge of tears but holding them back since he was _not_ a little kid anymore, Dean could hardly be bothered to ask why, and instead asked _whom_. Seeing the bruise on his brother’s eye was _just nothing_ to Sam, but everything to Dean. No one was going to hurt Sammy. No one. No monster, no ghost, no hunter, and no stupid kid were ever going to lay a hand on Sam and get away with it.

 

“Sammy? Who did that to you?” Dean said harshly, but of course, concerned.

“It’s nothing, Dean. It’s just a bruise. Calm down,” Sam responded quietly.

“Nothing? Sam, that thing is the size of a _fist_ – Who did it? Can you just tell me?!” Dean was trying his very best not to yell. His father was in just the other room getting his notes together.

“This girl at school was getting picked on – I stood up for her… The guy hit me. It didn’t even hurt, Dean, I’ve had _worse_ ,” Sam’s voice cracked. Fifteen years old, five and a half feet tall, and the kid’s voice was _still_ breaking.

 

Dean finally found out the bully’s name. The next day at school, Dean beat him to a pulp and didn’t even get suspended or expelled considering he took off immediately.  He couldn’t have the principal – or anyone, rather – finding out a nineteen year old was posing as a senior in high school and kicking the crap out of bullies.

 

Although he wasn’t a romantic, when Sam took his hand on the four mile walk back to the motel, he intertwined their fingers and swung their hands, pulling him to his side. Sammy’s hands were soft and unscarred unlike Dean’s. They were bloody, bruised, and scarred; Sam didn’t mind. Blood was dripping onto his brother’s fingers, and the kid didn’t care one bit. It was _Dean’s_ hand he was holding, and the older Winchester knew he could hold those tiny hands for the rest of his life and not give them up for anything.


End file.
